- Program Notes
- Text:
we were walking up the parking deck sweat-heavy, laughing,
cinammon, your eyes are close,
filling my lungs, in between my fingernails, it does not wash with soap.
permeable, meek,
an unfortunate mascara stain on the carpet of my third apartment
where i'd replaced the blinds
and hung 934 pictures of my grandfather wish upon a star.
text
let myself feel this time the softness behind
your shoulder blades, buried knives, safe, warm,
so simple,
to just, be
here like this. i love you.
- Performer Credits
- Unheard-of//Ensemble